


It hurts, doesn't it?

by NootDoot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Backstory, Battle Arena, Dark, Death, Fight arenas, Flashbacks, Gore, Other, Rejection, Sadness, baby lotor, don't hurt me, i guess, instability, messed up, throne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NootDoot/pseuds/NootDoot
Summary: Lotor, the prince of the Glara empire. Hostile, sadistic, nihilist...but what made him that way? One doesn't just turn evil from the start, do they?





	1. Chapter 1

Starting off. This is just a placeholder for when I can actually work on the fucking thing. I'm excited!!! but I'll probably fuck it up so heh.  
edit, 4/5/17  
Lotor starts off as an innocent bean, but tenuous stress on anything can leave a mark.  
Will put up chapter 1 tomorrow, although it will be short. I don't have anything truly planned, so hit me up with a few ideas in the comments?


	2. I've never seen him before.

    The arena was dark itself, and Zarkon put a hand on the child's head, pressing down. "Watch. This is what we all truly are, monsters under the cloaks of Civilization."

The child turned timidly toward the crowd, leaving his father to step out and look over the rails, to see the pit below. The heat radiated off the crowds, just like their jeers. Lotor glanced down at the arena, its floor covered in fine sand, porous, to soak up the blood that would remain at the end. Four purple pillars were around the pit, fencing the competitors in with invisible strands of electricity. Lotor's small hands gripped the railing, rising on his toes and leaning forward to get a better look at the arena. He was curious, Father never brought him out to watch a _game_ as a punishment. The pot-bellied game leader raised his arms, glancing at the two competitors, the current Champion, and a fine creature from Xelon. With her fine blue limbs and glossy black eyes, Lotor was confused on what game the maiden could play against the bulky Champion. The game leader lowered his arms and emitted a shrill note from his voicebox. The purple pillars glowed, signifying the electricity that was running through them. The crowd grew louder, and the Champion raised his arms to his fans, puffing his chest in an animalistic sense of dominance.

"Who will win?" Zarkon asked, taking a seat. The question sent young Lotor on edge, and gen looked out into the field with a reason. The Champion had an upper hand in the Xelonian, he was matted with scars and wounds from previous battles. He was taller, wider, and had mass as an advantage against the blue alien. Lotor glanced at the Xelonian now, who was skittishly avoiding the attacks the larger beast. Her race was known to be fast, agile, and they could sense movement through their antennae. The Champion's fist crashed into the ground, sending dust flying into the air. Ah yes, and the Xenolians were blind. With the powder dispersed in the air, Lotor concluded, the Xelonian wouldn't be able to pinpoint the Champion's movement, considering it as sand.

"The Champion, father. With his move, the Xelonian won't be able to detect him through the debris."

Zarkon let out a low rumble, signifying his laugh. "We shall see." Lotor pursed his lips. He didn't understand. Was there a chance that the Xelonian could win? Lotor heard another crash and saw another plume of sand. No, she couldn't. She wasn't even getting a chance to prove herself. What sort of game was this? One can't participate in a game if the other can't even partake in the play. This wasn't right. Lotor rocked back on his heels and turned to his father.

"Why doesn't the Champion let the Xelonian have a chance?"

"There are times when life doesn't give you chances, you have to make what you get."

A scream made Lotor's muscles seize. He turned to the arena, the Champion had settled his talons into the Xelonian, and black seeped through the wound. The blue alien shuddering under the talon. Lotor's eyes widened. The image was scarring for a five-year-old, and Lotor suddenly understood why his father had brought him here. To show him. "That Xelonian looks a lot like Vevok, doesn't she?" Zarkon made a noise like he was in deep thought. "Come to think of it, isn't Vevok part Xelonian too?" Lotor turned back to the scene, the blue alien's skin was turning a pale lavender, and she had started to gurgle. The acoustics of the battle arena allowed the sound to bounce off the wall, amplifying. Amplifying...Lotor keened.  _Amplifying_. 

"I don't want you with that boy." Zarkon announced. "Vevok is bred for this future. No point in staying close to someone who is staked for execution." Zarkon grabbed Lotor's chin, turning it toward him, "You weren't bred to deal with battle meat. You were bred to fight it."

The crowd went in an uproar behind Lotor, but he didn't look back. All he could see was his Father's malign, glowing eyes. And the years they'd taken, the things those eyes had seen. The things those eyes had stayed and watched. Lotor jerked away. "I want Mother."

"You know where she is." Zarkon answered, turning back to the arena, face devoid of emotion. Lotor's jaw hurt, right where hands had been. Lotor nodded, "I shall see you, Father."

"I know you shall. Remember our talk. Get rid of that part-Xelonian from your life."

"Yes Father."

 

 

~~**~~

The Arena was crowded as always, and the two Galra soldiers saw the new player enter the field. He was lean, and he had an orichalcum armour, it's purple tint glistened in the arena's lights.

"Who's this little fellow?" A buff soldier asked his friend.

"I don't know I've never seen him before."

The new player's hands went to his helmet, and pulled it off, white locks spilling over his shoulders. The soldiers blinked in confusion, that wasn't right. The player turned, to his audience, showing his handsome features. High brows, dark purple skin, long neck, and the distinguishing scales beneath his eyes. The soldiers took in a breath. 

Prince Lotor.

Lotor grinned deviously, turning to his opponent. A muscular Xelonian, with large ears and talons. The Xelonian's vicious seething slowed. And his eyes widened, "Lotor?"

"Bye Vevok."

Lotor reeled, pulling the sword out of his sheath. Running toward his old friend, Lotor arced his sword, slicing through his old comorade, his laughs loud through arena. The audience was in shock, confused at what the Galra prince was doing. But when they saw Lotor beaming at his work, the crowd erupted in awkward cheers.

He'd fought his share of battle meat.

 


	3. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story won't truly be chronological, but it will be flashbacks. You needn't know much about Voltron. Also, there will also be my take on a few things.  
> Also, what do you think would be a good name for Lotor's mom?  
> Shoutout to @Dearhart123 for the idea!!  
> Shoutout to @TheOtakuWithHazelEyes for the info on Lotor's mom!

    Thinking about her did nothing but induce fever dreams and nightmares. Sometimes he woke up shaking, and tears were falling onto the sheets, and sometimes he woke up in a pool of his own sweat. He hated it. It sent sharp stabs through his head and made him collapse in a migraine. 

It usually started with soft hands running through his hair. Whispering a lullaby into his ears, and then ultimately, a soft pair of lips that kissed his cheeks. It always started out with the good memories, how she tickled him. How she made him laugh. How she radiated warmth and love when Lotor was sobbing uncontrollably in her arms. Then they went to darker ones, like when he started to see bruises appear on her arms. How her singing turned into chest-shaking coughs. How her eyes went dull, and her smile disappeared whenever Lotor spoke about his day.

How she died.

How he'd just come back from conquering his first planet. He'd raced through the halls, and threw the door open, ready to give his mother a necklace. How he'd found her laying on the bed, her throat slit and her eyes cloudy, sheets soaked in her blood. When he'd rushed her to the medic, he'd figured out he was too late. Three days too late.

He'd asked- _begged_ Zarkon to use the druids. To do  _something_ about it, because what kind of man was he to let his wife die,  _godammit_!? The druids could do  something _,_ couldn't they? They were known through the regions of the galaxy to bring the dead back, or at least, part of them. But his Father just looked down at him with a solemn look and shrugged. He said, 'The druids only use their power for what's necessary for the Galra empire. 

That night, he was alone, and no one came to see if he was alright. And no one held him when he sobbed until his throat was hoarse and dry, and when he couldn't make any noise except for the occasional jolt of his body through the tears. The morning was worse, he dragged his feet to the dining hall where he slouched as he ate. He was surrounded by his half-siblings and his half-mothers. No one tried to console him. They just left him in his distress, hauling himself ahead.

About a week later, Canus, a slave girl for worked for Zarkon, but was occasionally seen with his mother, noticed him. Noticed him sulking in the hallway outside his room. She came up to him, set a pitcher of whatever she was holding, and put a hand on his head. "You're Lora's boy." Her features faltered. "Lora is..."

It looked like she was going to console him, but her head jolted to see a guard coming down the hallway, and scrambled up, hastening away. Lotor followed her form walk off, with hopeful eyes. She looked back over her shoulder and gestured for him to follow. 

It was then the shroud over Lotor's eyes was obscured. Canus led him through the hallway, taking passages Lotor didn't know existed. Until they reached a small arch, where Canus ducked below, and Lotor followed. 

"Lotor, do you know what your mother was, in reference to your father?"

Lotor glanced at Canus. "She was his wife."

Canus gave him a faraway look, and set the pitcher down. "She was his slave."

Lotor gave her a bewildered look, watching as Canus moved around the small space, which Lotor had deduced was her room. "I don't...no she wasn't she had his mark. He...they were mates."

"Lotor, your father mates all of the slaves he likes. It's a way to make sure they won't leave him or conduct another affair. You know how strong a mark can be for the lower mate." Canus sat on the floor, opposite to him, and held out her hand. Lotor took it and sat beside her. "Zarkon killed her because she was causing too much trouble for him." Canus gingerly brushed a lock of hair out of his face. "She didn't approve of Zarkon's choice of killing his slaves." Canus sighed, rubbing her pale purple hands together. "Now he killed her."

The reality struck Lotor with an uncanny calm. It seemed more logical than whatever he'd been thinking. His mother had been killed, and now she could be avenged. Lotor would make sure she was avenged. "Thank you, Canus." Lotor murmured, standing up and ducking out of the room. "This has been a very enlightening experience."

"Lotor."

He turned.

"Take care of yourself." Canus smiled softly. "I'll see you around."

But Lotor would never see her 'around' again. He knew why. Her blood ran faster than any other enemy he'd conquered. And her eyes pleaded for mercy, but Lotor hadn't given it to her. She was the only one who knew that he knew. He knew what Zarkon had done. No one else could know that he knew. Else he wouldn't be able to chip away Zarkon in the painful way he deserved. Lotor still needed to be Zarkon's golden boy.

"Yes. Bye, Canus." Lotor nodded. The walk back to his room seemed foreign, and his feet seemed coordinated to move against his will. 

"Lotor, where have you been?" Zarkon's voice.

"Walking around the ship," Lotor answered, slipping his usual tone into his voice. He would still seem starstruck, still like the little boy looking at his father with wide eyes. Lotor raised his head to meet his father's eyes.

He woke up. Panting. It never went farther. 

~~**~~

 

His chest was sliced open. Red spilling from the lacerations. Wound open so wide that the medical examiner could see his viscera, his heart pumping out blood, the artery severed and gushing blood. It was a mission gone wrong. He had conquered yet another planet, but as he stood on the cliff, delivering his words to the population below. He was attacked. His chest was sliced open by three, and his rib cage sawed off by two more. Lotor's guards had caught them before it got too bad, but the prince had been wounded. 

He couldn't be saved. 

The Medic went out to deliver the news to the Emperor.

"No." Zarkon responded, his voice gravelly. His face was younger at that point, not as deep set and cold. He'd looked almost...humane. "My son shall not die like that."

He turned to the woman in a cloak beside him, the one who's name was Haggar. 

"Prove yourself, witch."

"So I shall." She cooed, she turned to the Head Druid. "Prepare the chamber for our beloved Prince."

_He was in her arms again. She was smiling, and she was still the most beautiful woman Lotor had ever seen._

_"Why did you have to go?" he whispered._

_"I had to do what's right, sweetheart."_

_"Why didn't you think of me? I know it's selfish...but..." Lotor set his head on her shoulder. "I need you,"_

Lotor's body convulsed as he was driven to the ritual chamber, the medic turned to Zarkon.

"We're loosing him."

"Fight it, son." Zarkon took hold of Lotor's hand in torment, " _Fight it._ "

~~**~~

The ritual began, the druids murmuring the incantations, and the sacred lines etched on the floor started to glow. The beam of energy shot forward, and circled around the unconscious prince's body. But there just wasn't enough life in him. 

_"I want to stay with you."_

_"Okay sweetheart. I've got you, I'm here for you."_

"We need to perform a quintessence transfusion for the ritual to work." The head druid informed the rest, as the glow of the room dissipated. They turned to Haggar. Who turned to Zarkon. 

"I want my son saved. Do whatever you must." He replied, his voice betraying no emotion.

Haggar took a deep breath, and set her back straight. "Prepare for the transfusion and the ritual right after."

The head druid made a remark in his foreign language, and gestured for Haggar to step into the circle with Lotor's pale body. As Haggar passed, the druid put his hand on her shoulder for just a moment, enough time to whisper, "This will hurt."

Haggar just snorted, and went onward. Nothing like the pain her civilization had endured. The circle burnt as soon as she stepped in its vicinity, and it glowed a scalding white. The transfusion had begun. 

Veins of hot white energy climbed up Haggar's form and Lotor's body. It was searing pain on her feet, her legs, her chest, and now it engulfed her throat until all she could see what white. The pain burnt like scars and throbbed in the back of her skull. Her skin was burning off, and it smelled like burning Altean flesh, mingled with Galra skin. 

It stopped, and the floor glowed purple. 

"Step out." The head druid directed. "Take your place for the ritual."

Haggar stopped seizing, and stumbled to her place, and started her portion of the incantation. 

_Something was pulling him away from her. Some alien force. Lotor gripped onto her robes tighter._

_"Lotor, I think you need to go." She murmured into his hair._

_"Mother-"_

_She started to disintegrate, her hands first. Until her face chipped away, falling on the floor in pieces._

_"No!" he shrieked, scrambling to take hold of the pieces, "No no no!"_

"NO!" The prince screamed from the center of the room, choking on his own saliva. 

"Breathe." The Head Druid advised.

There were hisses from the prince and gargling noises from the back of his throat. Then, labored breaths filled the room's silence. 

"You must thank Haggar. She risked her life to save yours." The druid announced to the reanimated prince. 

"She gave you life." The Druid made an amused noise, "She may just be your new mother."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me more ideas...else like, this won't continue.


	4. Noot here!

Hi guys. So I guess this is where I'm going to sort of diverge from the DotU universe, and go on to shape The Glara Prince in my own little way.   
Some things to look forward to  
-Lotor in army school  
-Lotor possible love interest?? (Email/ comment me if you all have ideas??)  
-Angst  
-Slow Burns  
-Slow updates ;;;

 

If you have concerns, questions, suggestions, or ideas, hit me up!

 

threepointfiveinchesofdiskette@gmail.com


	5. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit its been a while...
> 
> I want to point out to y'all, its been hinted that Lotor never liked his father, so...here...  
> Also, everything that happened in the previous chapters, still applies to the story. Lotor is about in his teens right now, Idk how Galra age works. If you have ideas about that, email or comment. I always appreciate the help.  
> :)

The note was then slipped under Lotor's door when he was taking his shower, so there he was, jumping on his bed, whooping in a pitch he didn't know his voicebox could generate. Ultimately falling off the edge onto his dresser. So, when the guard opened the door, he was surprised to see the prince buck-naked and lying awkwardly on his dresser, far too high for a normal jump.

"Egron...would you pass me my clothes from there?" Lotor made a wild gesture to the floor, trying to edge himself off the chifferobe in a way that would be the least injurious to his health. 

"Why the...exciement, sire?" Egron asked, looking down as Lotor got off the tall furniture and in his clothes.

"I was just accepted in Carnegorney,"

Egron made a bow, "I congratulate you on your new status as student of the academy."

Lotor held his chin up in defiance, "Why thank you Egron."

"Also sire, your father expected you at the dining hall about 7 ticks ago."

"Shit."

(I'm going to assume the Galra use ticks as a measurement of time along with the Alteans??)

"I got in the Shamrock Squadron!" Lotor's oldest stepbrother cheered, clutching the paper with such vigor, Lotor was sure it would rip. Lotor turned back to his newst letter from the Academy, the one that told them what their Squadron would be. He searched through the words.

 _With contempt, we would like to inform you that you have-_ blah, blah, blah- _Great acceptance..._ whatever...

_Vermilion squadron._

 

Lotor stopped in his tracks, and read over the letter again.

_Vermilion squadron._

He searched for a sign that told him it was not so. Nope, the letter was his own.

"What did you get, Lotor?" His brother leaned over his shoulder, and Lotor shoved him away, not before his brother caught a whiff of his shame.

"Vermilion?!" His brother snorted a laugh, "Lotor, you got Vermilion!"

Lotor shot his brother a glare,  _the guards would notice._

 _"_ Let them," His brother teased, "Let them see that even the king's favorite hybrid can't get a good-"

"I'll get it fixed," Lotor spat, turning tartly on his heel, marching to the throne room. 

 

"Father."Lotor announced his presence, and marched into the throne room. Zarkon probably already knew why Lotor was here, so what was the point of formalities?

"Lotor?"

"Father you know why I am here."

"Your Squad doesn't please you?"

Lotor clenched his fists, begging his claws not to lash out in fury. "Sir, I have made a whole new planet join our forces last Coral Mass. I think I am capable of something higher than the Vermillion Squad."

"Are you saying that my choice isn't a well enough compensation for your skill? Do you suggest that I do not know your skill?"

Lotor bit his lip, "No sir, I meant nothing of the sort...it's just that Vermilion is the lowest squad in Carnegorney-"

Zarkon rose from his throne, and Lotor stumbled back, unsure of what he had done to trigger the king's sudden change in position.

"Lotor, do you know what you are?"

Lotor stuggled for an adequate answer, but Zarkon continued, "You are a hybrid-"

 _So that is what this is all about._ _It's because I'm a hybrid._

"I know you should be in the best that Carnegorney can offer, but I simply can't go against my people, you are a hybrid. Galra...they just cannot accept that you're diffrent." The king's words were sympathetic, but his tone had no fluctuation. It still sounded like rocks were being crushed in the back of his throat.

Lotor's eyes were wide in fury now, unchecked. None of his actions from that moment onward would be the result of a sober mind. "I didn't ask to be a hybrid!"

"Lotor..." Zarkon murmured.

"I didn't ask the-" He whirled around to room to find her. There she was, under her hood, emerging from behind Zarkon's throne. 

"I didn't ask the witch to save me!"

"Lotor, you owe your life to Haggar. If she hadn't stepped in that circle when she had, you wouldn't even been standing here."

Lotor sneered, his Galra teeth glinted in his mouth. "The whore should probably stay with her own kind, dead and rotting in the remains of a drained planet."

" _Lotor_!"

The silver-haired prince jolted, and gasped. He turned to his father who was staring daggers at him. "Don't want to be hybrid, now do you?"

"Sir-"

"Do you? Come here."

Lotor was stumbling, over his words, and over his feet. He'd done it. He was done for. "Sir, I didn't mean-"

"Come. Here. Lotor."

Lotor caught Haggar sneering wickedly from the corner of his eyes. 

"Listen to me, boy," Zarkon growled, shoving Lotor to the ground. 

  
Lotor staggered backward, crawling now. His arms shaking. He was in deep waters.

"If you don't want to look like a hybrid-" Zarkon pulled out his bayard. The King may not have Black Lion, but he still had his bayard. "Then you won't have to."

The bayard changed to a knife. Before he knew it, Lotor had a knife flying towards his face.

 

 

_Okay, so as you all know, Alteans have these scales under their eyes. I don't know how Lotor's official VLD art looks like. So..._   
_When I see how Lotor looks like, I'll come back to this chapter and add on..._   
_~Noot_


	6. The Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor starts battle school.  
> Disclaimer: I know in DotU, the Glara come from Planet Doom. But in vld, the Galra are basically Purple, Space Gypsies that like conquering worlds. So the place that I describe in the chapter is where they currently are. (like where most of the species that isn't fighting is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter. Sorry guys. But Lotor in the high squad should be snazzy. I promise.  
> Lots of teams stuff, and war strategies.

The Galra battleschool was in an old solarsystem. The planets were dead and the Weblums had already started to make their way to the dried up planets. Somehow, the Galra race thought that this was the  _perfect_ place to set up a school to cultivate the incoming members of their race. The solar system was meager, with about four rocky planets orbiting an adequate  star that had no intention of blinking out soon. The Solar System existed in Sector  _Forma 7e-9_ , a good hour away from where the Mother Ship was located at the moment. The Glara, themselves came from the small system in sector  _Alpha 1e-14_. The Mother Ship currently resting between the planets Keres and Phonoi, along with the ball of hot gas that could barely be classified as a star, Elpis. Lotor stared at the travel pod that would take the children straight to the Carnegorney  Academy. It was small, but it felt like it could go somewhere. Lotor took his seat. 

Carnegorney was hell. That was it. Strapped into a vermilion suit to denote his rank, and the stares he got when he walked through the halls. It was crushing. He saw his older brother quite often. Whenever he did, all he got was a sneer as his brother tapped the Chartuse color of his suit. Lotor ducked, and ambled on his way. The classes were so undermined for him. they were teaching basic tactics like Flanking, Trenches, and use of High Ground. These were all the tactics for Terra Invasion. Lotor had learned about them from commander Sendak when he was  _nine._ It seemed as if the Vermillion squadron would never get to teaching anything that would profit Lotor himself. He needed Alheimurinn tactics, and he needed  them  _now._ Commander Sendak had refused to tell him about those tactics, promising that Carnegorney made the learning experience better that he ever could. 

Lotor wanted to go and kick something. Carnegorney had done nothing of profit other than feeding him for the past week.

"If you're going to be such a prick about it, take it up with the Dean." A student had muttered in the middle of class. 

So he decided to.

"You've been put in the Vermilion squad, boy. That's where you're going to stay."

"But sir," Lotor pleaded, "I've conquered my first planet last Lunar Mass- does that not count for anything?"

"Listen, boy. you're not in the palace anymore. Now you're my student, so start acting like one. If you prove yourself to be of higher rank by the next Quolontian crossing, I shall consider."

Lotor swelled with hope, "Yes, sir."

"Make your father proud."

 

A bo staff connected with his jaw, and his head snapped backward.

" _Hevna,_ boy! If you're going to be fighting like that I might as well send you with the other hybrids!"The Dean's voice was like a grip on reality. 

Three against one. Yeah, he had one hell of a chance. Ever since the whole transfusion occurred, Lotor's growth patterns had changed. His purple hair turned stark white. Claws receded into his hand and turned into just small points. His frame had stopped growing considerably, now he didn't grow wide and muscular, but tall and wiry. Let's not even talk about his ears, they'd become pointed, elfen things, rather than the large one he should've had. The ears still worked fine though, picking up the same frequencies his Galra ears would be able to catch. There used to be the scales under his eyes, but they'd gone. Or shall say, they'd been forcefully taken. Lotor couldn't fight with another Galra his age for  _shit_ , let alone three. 

Lotor skid under one's legs. and whirled around to sweep his own staff under the Galra's feet. He swirled again, holding up his staff to block the next opponent. One down, two to-

His hair was pulled back, and he was facing the last member of the trio he was supposed to fight. "Go back to your daddy, Half-life."

"Stop being a pussy, grabbing on to my hair like that." Lotor snapped back.

The staff was shoved harshly into his abdomen, and Lotor reeled.

"Come on boys, three more tocks on the clock." The Dean said, sounding disappointed now. 

"Let go!" Lotor hissed, trying to pull his hair away.

"Shouldn't have let it grow this long, eh?" The Galra with a staff snorted.

_Shit, what now?_

"Give up, half-life. No one like you belongs near the throne."

"Dunno how you ended up there. What did your mother have to do to get hit up by the Emperor?"

The other Galra boy laughed,"She probably got down on her hands and knees and-"

Lotor jolted his head back, crushing the Galra's nose, then he snarled at the other one. "Give it your best shot."

The Galra charged, and Lotor just flipped him over swiftly, and turned around to his motionless body. "Stay down."

"I'm not going to bow to your-"

Lotor brought his heel down on the boy's neck, and pressed until he was sure he heard a snap. He kept his foot there, "You will."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I'm bad with feelings and stuff...._

_Always open for suggestions!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no preference, (jk, I do. but still...) but what do you guys think about the Lancelot ship? (lance x lotor)  
> I feel like the dynamic could work. But I'd like some other opinions...  
> ~Noot


	7. So hey.

HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THINGS THAT HAVE A PULSE.  
LOTOR JUST GOT A FACE REVEAL AND ITS JUST AS FABULOUS AS I EXPECTED.

I want to see what Dreamworks do to him...like will he be the Ultimate Trash Babey?..  
Or like  
Sadistic badass bad boy that is hhhuuuurrrkkkkkkk

Honestly

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying.


End file.
